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by cruxcantare



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Based on Sweet Home Alabama, Community: wrestlingkink, Divorce, Frotting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Romance, The Miz is Reese Witherspoon, ages are fudged, previous lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruxcantare/pseuds/cruxcantare
Summary: The Miz is a world famous actor going home to ask his mom for the family ring so he can propose to his dream girl.Unfortunately, he's still married to someone else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Achika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achika/gifts).



The air is too fresh.

It's a weird complaint but it's almost suffocating to Mike. As if something were missing among the fake smiling faces and their fake small town values. When Mike got out a couple years ago, he never looked back. Good riddance. Los Angeles is more beautiful to Mike than the twinkling stars, the thick trees, the stupid grass.

And yet, being home again is strange. The moment the car crossed into the town’s borders, Mike couldn't describe the feeling in his belly. Dreaming of better things was a lot harder here, where he was surrounded by farmers and people whose greatest ambition was thrusting their life savings into some teenagers who will never make it to the NFL. 

Mike talked in front of mirrors, trying to get the facial expressions right. He worked out for aesthetics. He acted in everything he could as he saved up money to move. He became a man who belonged under the neon lights, on the cover of tabloids, in a limo with a hot French model. He smirked. Sure enough, if he checks his phone, he will find a couple texts from his girlfriend. That she misses him. That she can’t wait to meet his family. That he’ll love this little red number she picked up on Beverly Boulevard.

Mike can’t wait to get back to Maryse, back to the sun. His hometown wasn’t even close to the airport. His suit, his shades, hell, even his haircut felt out of place here, and when he was still here, that’s how he liked it. A reminder that he didn’t belong here, was meant for greater things. And when he stops for lunch at a place he used to hang out in as a teen, even the people who he doesn’t recognize stare at him.

Of course, the waitress recognizes him.

“Miz?”

Mike moves his shades to smile widely at Dana. They’d gone out at one point, when Mike was still Mike and Dana was following the homecoming queen around. “How you doing?”

Dana throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. “It’s been way too long! Oh god, I just got a copy of the new Marine movie, it’s incredible.”

“Thanks, it is, right?” Mike kisses her cheek. “Watch the suit, hun.”

“Whoops.” Dana pulls away, grinning. “What are you doing here?”

“My parents live here.” Mike reminds her. “Dolph still working behind the counter?”

“What? Oh yes, of course. I’ll go get him.”

Dolph working behind the counter still is probably the saddest story Mike ever heard. Money for college became money for a life. Dolph never wanted to run his father’s restaurant, and yet there he is, wearing a hairnet and an apron with splotches of chili on it.

“Miz! Give me a couple minutes, I’ll come sit with you. Give Dana your order.”

Mike is drinking his lemon water when Dolph sits at the table, grinning at him. “You look good, brother.”

Mike nods rather than lies by returning the compliment.

“So, what are you doing here? You’ve got time to hang out?”

“I’ll see but I’m hoping my visit won’t be long. Going to see my parents.” Mike leans in. “You’ve seen my girl, right?”

“The model? Gorgeous man.”

“She’s incredible. You’ll get to meet her at the wedding but uh… you’ll definitely need to bring your best.”

“The we… Miz, are you engaged?”

“Not yet,” Mike grins, “Getting the rock from my mom tonight but it’s been a great two years. I want Maryse to have my name.”

“Oh, so everything’s done with…”

“Oh yeah. Of course.” Mike nods. He hates that Dolph even brought it up; Dolph’s the one, after all, who served the papers. “I haven’t seen him in years, that’s the past.”

“I couldn’t believe you even went through with that.” Dolph scrunches up his face, pretending to puke. “We all do dumb things drunk, right? Except I don’t have to send checks to my mistakes.”

Mike forces himself to remain calm. “It’s a good thing you don’t, what would that leave you with? Fifty cents a month? Hope the tips are good.”

They both laugh as if they didn’t just insult each other. But the truth is, Mike wishes his mistake was just a check now. No, his mistake is a fucking goat who won’t answer his phone or get this over with already.

***

If Mike had his way, he wouldn’t even have to drive up to the stupid house. It would already be done with. Mike had tried mailing the papers, but of course, his mistake refuses to sign the return slip. That’s when Mike got his old ‘friend’ involved. Still, nothing. Mike considered trucking ahead anyway, but he had hoped to settle this quietly, out of the public eye. Sweep the little indiscretion under the rug and marry the woman of his dreams.

Maryse doesn’t deserve this blight on her dream wedding.

Mike reaches into his pocket and fishes out his keys before he even gets out of the car, before looking up at the door. He still has the key on the ring, for some reason unable to bring himself to toss it. Luckily, it’ll come in handy now. He looks back at the door, steeling himself for whatever fight the stubborn goat was going to give him. This is just like getting into character.

Mike’s loafers crunch browned leaves under his feet as he walks to the door. It occurs to him that maybe the locks have been changed, but that doesn’t stop him from sliding his key in. A smirk as it twists, letting Mike into the house.

And then a mutt attacked him.

A white Frenchie scrambled towards him, and Mike does the only thing he can think to do: he shuts the door. The dog whimpers on the other side, and suddenly, Mike hears the claws scratching on the door. That could’ve been his slacks if he hadn’t thought on his feet.

“What’s a matter, Josie? You want outside?”

Even syrupy, Mike recognizes the voice.

The scratching is gone in a moment. “Why is this door unlocked?” The door opens, and there’s the biggest mistake Mike ever made, wearing flannel and jeans. Because there wasn’t a mountain man stereotype in the world Bryan Danielson didn’t enjoy. At least he’d finally trimmed the beard. In the years after their split, judging by the photos Mike saw on Facebook, he’d let the thing grow to nest proportions.

“Mike.”

“That thing is a menace.”

“What thing… _Josie?_ ” Bryan pets the dog. “Were you scared of little Josie?”

“These are Tom Ford.”

“I didn’t know you named your pants.” Bryan kisses the dog on the mouth, making Mike cringe. “You know; you wouldn’t have to worry about sweet dogs giving you hugs if you didn’t arrive to my house unannounced.”

“You ever take my name off the deed? Didn’t think so.” Mike didn’t even give Bryan a chance to respond, instead pushing past Bryan into the house they used to share. There had used to be paintings in the front hall. Mike had taken the one he’d chosen with him when he moved, but Bryan’s paintings weren’t on the wall either. The hall was empty, save for the boots on the floor and the coats on the hook.

“What are you doing here, Mike?”

Nobody calls him Mike anymore. “I’ve tried calling you.”

Bryan shrugs, his eyes glued on the little dog—on Josie—who’s licking his lips and beard. “I didn’t realize; I don’t recognize California numbers.”

“I left you voicemails.”

“Must’ve deleted them, whoops.”

“You want to look at me when I’m talking to you?” Mike snaps. “And stop letting that thing get germs all over you.”

Bryan looks up at him, but that doesn’t stop Josie from licking his beard. “What do you want, Mike?”

“You know what I want.”

Silence. Of course Bryan knows what he wants.

“You want tea? Let’s have tea.”

“What? No I don’t want tea!” Mike follows him deeper into the house. Some of the furniture is gone too: their living room is just a couple of folding chairs, their dining room a table with no chairs—Mike suspects the folding chairs change venues between the living room and the dining room. “What I want is a divorce.”

“I’m thinking green? That’s what they’re drinking in Hollywood, right?” Bryan lets down the dog, and Mike shakes his head, protesting, but Josie just continues to follow Bryan in the kitchen. Mike follows behind them, keeping distance between himself and the hairball.

“I’ve been more than fair about this.”

“I remember you taking two teaspoons of sugar, but I’m sure the new diet means none.” Bryan reaches into a cabinet, grabbing something. As it lowers, Mike sees a case full of teabags.

“We’ve lived on opposite sides of the country for years, Bryan, you can’t pretend to be surprised by it.”

Bryan pulls out an unlabeled tube with golden goo in it. “Me, I still take with a little agave, thanks for asking.”

“Why won’t you sign the goddamn papers?”

Bryan grins at him, now brandishing two mugs. Mike recognizes both of them—Bryan bought him the blue one with sharks on it when he came to see him at the Riverside theater production of _West Side Story_ , and the plain stone one Mike had stolen when Bryan was in the hospital as a “going away present”.

“Because it fucks with you.” Bryan turns away to prepare the tea. “Nice touch by the way, having Dolph slide the papers into my car. Illegal touch, but nice.”

Mike ignores Dolph’s stupidity. “You won’t move on with your life to fuck with me?”

“Your pathetic voicemails are just wonderful too. I love when you pretend to be worried about me. _Bryan, you don’t want the paparazzi at your door, just get this over with_.” Bryan mocks him, and Mike’s fists clench. “Just for the next voicemail to be how _humiliated_ you’d be if they found out about me. I should send TMZ a wedding photo, bet you’d like those.”

Bryan was different when they got married. Tanner, clean cut. Less embarrassing to be seen with. “You won’t send anyone our photos.”

“Try me, Mike.”

"They’ll ridicule you. Your hick lifestyle and this crappy house and your stupid haircut.”

 “I don’t read those magazines though I wonder what they’ll say about you living in this crappy house with a hick with a stupid haircut.” Bryan holds out the mug with the sharks on it. “Tea?”

“Get that out of my face.”

“Suit yourself.” Bryan sets down the mug. “It’ll be here if you want it, though.” Bryan sips his tea, and Mike can’t help but feel furious. Bryan always had a way of getting under his skin, from the time they met in high school. Bryan had been a nonentity until their senior year, when he’d come out of nowhere to beat out Mike for the role of Duke Orsino. Playing Malvolio in his final high school production had been the most humiliating moment in his life. Of course, until Mike, only 21 years old, had somehow found himself at City Hall with Bryan.

Mike was thirty now, and if he wanted a future, he needed to scrub that past.

“Bryan,” Mike said, deciding a different tactic, “Look around you. I don’t know what happened, and I’m sorry it did. But wouldn’t a divorce settlement help? My money can get you back on your feet.”

Bryan looks up from his mug, his jaw clenching. Bryan slowly puts down his tea, before turning back to Mike. “You think I want your _money_?” Bryan hisses. “Get out of my house.”

“It’s my house too…”

“No it’s not!” Winding up Bryan was a skill cultivated through the years, from enemies to weird friends to a fucking marriage. Bryan was normally unshakable, calm where Mike was easily ignited, but not when it came to Mike. “Just keep acting like you don’t have a husband. Isn’t that your job? Acting? It’s all you’re good at.”

“I’d love to, just sign…”

Bryan opens a nearby drawer, fishing out a crumpled manila envelope. It doesn’t take long for Mike to realize what it is. Bryan rips it down the middle, and then grabs the two pieces and rips them in half again.

“That’s just fine, I brought my own, those expire you know…”

“Mike, get out or the first thing I’m doing is emailing our wedding photos to every tabloid I can find online.”

Mike’s lips press together in a thin line, his body seemingly vibrating with anger, but the threat does its job. Mike twists around, punching their wall. “I’m not leaving this godforsaken town until you sign the damn papers,” he fumes.

Bryan tosses the remains of the envelope in the trash. “Then get comfortable, _honey_.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mike fumes as he walks out of their house. He doesn’t know why he thought this would be different. What about the face to face was going to change anything? Yet something did change. He knew Bryan was living with nearly no furniture. What was that? Had he sold it off to keep the house?

Mike goes to the car, opening it. The new court documents are in his carry-on bag; he isn’t supposed to deliver them himself, but he could persuade Dolph to sign an affidavit if Mike promised him a spot in the wedding and the phone number of one of Maryse’s bridesmaids. He grabs the manila envelope out, marching to their mailbox.

“I know you know that’s illegal.”

Mike whips around. There’s Bryan at the window, watching him. At least he’s smiling again. Guess he enjoys getting one over Mike.

“I’m getting your signature one way or another.”

“Get out of here, sweetheart.”

Bryan never called him sweetheart when they were together, or honey, or any of those little affectations. No, that was Mike’s calling card, flattering the other man until he turned red. Mike walks up to the house, closer to the window. To Bryan. “I’ll just come back tomorrow!”

Bryan rests his head on his hand, fingers tapping against his chin. “Do you prefer the picture of you feeding me cake, or the one where we’re kissing? The kissing picture’s a little tacky, right?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Mike snaps.

“Maybe because instead of saying hello to your husband of, oh, _nine_ years you insulted my dog. Or you can make up a reason, you’re pretty good at that. But trust me, I’ve got plenty of time to look through the photos of me and my husband to find a nice one to plaster all over those magazines you love. Enjoy yourself. Say hi to my in-laws for me.”

Mike’s mouth opens, but he jumps as Josie’s head appears, front legs on the windowsill. Bryan laughs, and the further ridicule is enough to send Mike to his car.

***

Mike knows his parents always hoped Bryan was a phase, and they’re giddy when Mike asks for the ring. They talk about the beautiful children Mike will have with Maryse, and he smiles. If they’re half as gorgeous as their mother, Mike will be fighting men all his life. Neither ask about the divorce: when it happened, if it happened, anything. They just assume it’s done, that Bryan’s history.

Besides him and Bryan, there was one other person at the _actual_ wedding. It had been private, and in a way more special at the time. But when Mike and Bryan went to each other’s homes, wearing rings, well… things blew up. When they told the Danielsons, Bryan’s mom insisted on something more traditional, something more celebratory. Mike’s mom would never be left out of her own son’s wedding plans, but that didn’t stop her from taking Mike to the cellar and asking if an annulment was something he considered.

Mike had been angry at the time, so it was kind of funny to think back at that and remember that before Mike aimed for divorce, he tried to figure out if he could annul things with Bryan. Their marriage legally not existing would have solved all of his problems.

Mike isn’t sure he believes Bryan has it in him to send their photos to the tabloids, but he can’t take the chance.  It would humiliate him and Maryse. Should he have told Bryan about Maryse? Would he have been more understanding if he knew someone else was involved? The Bryan he remembered was almost too understanding. About everything except the life Mike worked towards.

A call to Dolph that he’s staying in town a night, and Mike’s invited to a bar he hasn’t been to in years. He’d had his first beer in there, Dana once kissed him in there, Bryan once left him there for being drunk and stupid. Act four of his and Bryan’s relationship, the time where they both loathed the other yet for some reason remained under the same roof. Mike isn’t going to feel bad about finally cutting the cord connecting two people who should’ve never been together in the first place.

There’s three pool tables in the middle, a couple people in tables, a few more by the bar. It’s brightly lit, to show off how embarrassing the turnout is. Mike has never been to a bar this empty in Los Angeles. Dolph and Dana are by one of the pool tables, and Dana waves him over, grinning widely. With some drinks in his system, maybe this will feel like an actual party.

“I know you, don’t I?”

Mike turns his head at the table he’s passing, at a blonde in a black hat. Cute, in a basic sort of way. Mike didn’t know anyone moved into this town, but he didn’t recognize her at all. It made him sad, thinking of somebody moving to a place like this. Settling roots in a place like this.

“Yeah, I’m the Miz. Always nice to meet a fan. What’s your favorite movie?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t own a TV, that’s not it.”

The polite veneer begins to slip, Mike’s smile plastered on. She sounds almost proud of the fact. No wonder she moved here; she’s almost an idiot.

“Renee. That’s Bryan’s husband.”

Mike recognizes the voice, and suddenly, he notices that the blonde isn’t alone at the table. A brunette in a flowing maxi dress, her eyes focused on him. Brie used to be one of Mike’s friends, in high school and college, when she was known for chugging and losing her shoes. Sometime through his married days Brie became Bryan’s friend instead, salt-of-the-earth vegan babe who sometimes smelled as if her natural deodorant was failing her. Everything changed but the lack of shoes.

At those words, Renee’s face falls. “Oh.” Renee pats his arm awkwardly, before going back to the table. He looks between both girls: Renee is trying not to look him in the eye, while Brie is glaring a hole through him. Mike wonders what Bryan told Brie.

“Me and Bryan aren’t married, Brie.”

“Hello to you too, Miz.” Brie holds up a glass in a mock toast. “So glad you found time for the little people.”

“Why would she recognize me anyway?” Mike insists. He’s never seen Renee, so he can’t understand… unless Bryan’s showing people pictures? Bragging about the famous spouse he’s keeping trapped?

Brie shrugs, before taking a drink. “I think that’s a talk you should have with your husband.”

Why does she insist on using the h word? “Me and Bryan aren’t _married_ , Brie.”

Brie nods at him, mouth open. Mike can tell she knows better. He’s had enough of weird vegans laughing at him to last him a lifetime. “Keep saying it, eventually it’ll come true.” Mike steps away from her, not willing to let her rile him up. “Is that why you’re here? Because you know your husband will be?”

Mike shakes his head. “Bryan doesn’t drink, why would he come here?”

Brie pretends to think for a moment. “Well, if you remember, he used to come here a lot because his shitty husband loved to drink.”

Mike grinds his teeth together. Each time Brie uses the h word, it just makes him angrier. He needs a drink. But he can’t help himself.

“For the last time, we are _not_ married.”

***

Bryan comes in when Mike’s about to sink in the solid green ball. Dolph and Dana’s friends are more his speed: they tell him their favorite scenes in the Marine series, they shamelessly take selfies with him, they buy him shots. But every time the door opens, Mike looks up, until the time he sees the same flannel from earlier. Bryan comes in with someone who looks suspiciously like the kid who set the gym on fire in high school. Dean Ambrose hanging out with Bryan Danielson. Guess a lot of things changed when Mike was away.

Mike’s cue slips on the ball, making it jump. Dana laughs as she takes her turn, effectively ruining Mike’s one move victory. But his eyes are on Bryan. In a near empty bar, the sound of the white ball was easily heard. Brie chuckles into her hand as Bryan sits next to her. Renee laughs even louder when that thug—apparently her boyfriend, based on how cozy they are—mimics Mike’s failed shot. But no, what makes him angriest is Bryan, who just mouths three words.

_Pay attention baby._

“So, Dana.” Mike says, unable to keep from projecting his voice. No, he wants Bryan to see this, wants Bryan to stop laughing at him. “Have you ever seen the Mizanin family ring?”

“Are you kidding me?” Dana barely looks up from the pool table. “Of course. I used to grab your mom’s hand all the time just to look at it. Now that’s a rock.”

Mike digs into his pocket and pulls out the velvet box. “I know.”

That gets Dana’s attention. She nearly tosses her stick aside, gaping at the box. Mike doesn’t even have to pull out the ring; she’s transfixed. “Jesus fuck, Miz, are you getting married?”

Mike looks back at the table, to see his audience’s reaction. That wiped the smiles off of Bryan’s crew. Brie stares at him, stone faced, while Renee’s hands are clapped over her mouth. Dean shakes his head and looks away. But the moment he looks at Bryan, he feels his stomach drop. There’s nothing on his face. He’s still just staring at him, as if he’s going to mouth something again.

Mike waits, but nothing comes.

“Yeah, for real this time,” Dolph suddenly answers for him, an extra jab Mike had no intention of adding. Mike’s eyes are still on Bryan, watching him digest every word Dolph says. “Have you seen this girl? Miz _won_ , babe.”

Bryan still isn’t doing anything, but Brie’s on her feet, a phone in her hand. She looks furious. “If you haven’t seen her it took me five seconds to find her.” Brie shows Mike his phone, and he suddenly feels sick, looking at Maryse’s twitter page. His Maryse. “She’s _real_ pretty, Miz. Good job. Oh look! Her last tweet is how she can’t wait to see her Mizzie again. You guys are real cute. How about I tell her that Mizzie came home to talk to his husband?”

“Brie.” Bryan grabs her arm, shaking his head.

“Oh come on, Brie, you can’t expect Miz to let one drunken mistake rule the rest of his life.”

Dolph’s big mouth. The words are Mike’s own, and he’s heard Dolph echo them before, but never in front of Bryan like this. Bryan’s eyes go down, and Mike can see him mouth the word drunken. Mike should be focused on the threat, on Maryse, but instead, his eyes are on Bryan. Trying to figure out what he’s thinking.

“A drunken mistake? How many years did you live in the same house, _Mike_?” Brie hisses. “Do you really think you can just pretend Bryan never mattered, huh? You’re that ashamed of him?”

“ _Brie_.”

Brie shook her head. “No Bryan, let the coward speak.”

“Brie, let’s go.”

“What, you too good for the man you married?”

“You’re damn right I am!” Mike hadn’t meant to yell, and he’s almost stunned by his own response. But still, he keeps going. “I left a man with no ambitions and no prospects and a shitty town to make something of myself, and I did. When he and I were together he loathed me and now he wants to keep me trapped? Why, because I’m _successful_?” His eyes never left Bryan, and now he’s yelling directly at him. “I already told you I’d give you the money.”

Everyone’s quiet. Mike’s people, Bryan’s people, Bryan. Bryan shook when Mike said the word loathed, and as Mike finished, Bryan rose and began to walk to the door. Brie shakes her head at him, and then runs after Bryan. Dean stands and offers his arm to Renee, who finally opens her mouth.

“He doesn’t need your money. He’s got more than enough of his own.”

“You don’t have to lie for him, I’ve seen our house. Our furniture is gone.”

Renee stands, linking arms with Dean. Once a delinquent, now waiting dutifully for a woman. “Yeah genius, because Bryan is moving.”

Moving.

_Moving_.

If Mike hadn’t come home, he may have missed Bryan forever. The idea of not being able to find his husband… not being able to serve the divorce papers… makes his blood boil. Bryan tried to pull a fast one on him, haul off to some mountain and disappear. Bryan was trying to keep him trapped in this stupid marriage.

Mike runs out the door. Past Renee and Dean. If Bryan’s already gone, he’ll just go to their house, cut him off there. But the plan isn’t necessary, Bryan on the street whispering with Brie. Right next to the one street light. The road is empty, the lack of sound discomforting to Mike. He needed to get out of here. He had the ring, all he needed to do was get this troll to let him go.

“You.”

They both twist around at the same time. With a gentle shove, Bryan pushes Brie behind him. “You really want to humiliate us both some more?”

“In front of nine people? Really?” Mike sneers. “You were going to _move_?”

Bryan sighs. “Renee.”

“No, Bryan, you. Is fucking with me that important to you that you’d ruin my marriage like this?”

“Well, hate to be a stickler, but you’re the one ruining _our_ marriage.”

Mike can’t help himself. He grabs Bryan by the collar, shaking him. He can hear Brie yell at him, but he’s not sure he cares. “There is no our, there is no _us._ You were going to move without telling me, you son of a bitch…”

“Hey!” Mike can feel a strong hand on his shoulder, tugging. “That’s enough of the domestic violence…”

Maybe it’s the words Dean used, but Mike snaps. Mike turns around and his hand catches Dean’s cheek, the loud slap ringing out. “You stay out of this.”

Dean chuckles. “You know, come to think of it, I never really liked you.”

Suddenly, Dean grabs his arm, twisting it around his back. Mike yells out, trying to pull away, before hearing the clink of metal. “Striking an officer, that’s an offense.”

“A _what_?”

Both girls watch with their hands over their mouths. Bryan says Dean’s name, but Dean ignores him. Dean shoves Mike up against the streetlight, before grabbing his other arm, handcuffing his wrists together. The idea of Dean being an officer would almost be comical if he wasn’t yanking Mike around. Arrested in bumblefuck, that’s sure to look good on the cover of Us Weekly. “Come on, you can sober up in a cell.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Where’d Officer Arson go?”

Bryan sits at the front of his cell, on the floor; Mike on the other side, sitting on the pallet. The building only has two cells which barely get any use; Mike can see a desk across the room, but otherwise, it’s gray and far too bright. After Dean dropped Mike into the cell, emptying his pockets and putting the contents in an envelope, he had disappeared, along with the key to Mike’s freedom. Bryan had remained in the room, and while Mike had resolved not to talk to Bryan, but that resolution lasted about six minutes.

 “Renee and Brie were hungry, is all he said.”

So he left him alone to buy the girls food. Fuck. “How’d he become a cop anyway?”

“The old fashioned way. Nepotism.” Mike laughs at that one. He almost forgot that Dean’s father was the sheriff; it was not like Regal bragged about his wayward son much while Mike was around. “You know he’s probably not charging you, right?”

That was a relief to here. No mug shot, no report, nothing to put in the tabloids. “So what’s this, he just messing with me?”

“Bingo.”

Mike shakes his head, leaning against the wall. This visit just keeps getting more and more messed up.

Bryan takes a deep breath, before breaking the silence. “So, uh. Drunken mistake?”

Should’ve seen it coming, really. Mike kicks off his loafers. If he’s going to be here a while, he might as well be comfortable. The conversation’s going to be uncomfortable enough for the both of them. “It’s just some stupid guy talk, you know? But I did propose to you drunk, to be fair.”

“Were you drunk all 200 times you proposed to me?”

“Oh come on, I did _not_ propose to you 200 times.”

“Oh?” Bryan pulls out his phone, looking through it. “In case you forgot, we’ve got most of them in a file.”

It had been so dumb. They weren’t even dating when Mike proposed the first time, drunk and pressing a surprised Bryan against a tree on campus. Well, not like Mike was seeing anyone else either. Their move from enemies to friends had been a strange time. He’d hated Bryan at eighteen years old; at 20, they were friendly enough for Mike to climb into his bed. Again. And again.

“Bryan,” Bryan reads from his phone, and Mike closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to listen. He was an idiot at twenty. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about being too young to get married. Are you old enough now? You’re two days older.”

“Bryan, stop.”

“If you’re too old to get married now, that’s all the more reason for us to get it over with. Our days are slipping away from us. Would you consider taking my name?”

“Bryan, I remember…”

Bryan holds up a finger, and Mike falls silent. “Do you remember the first time I climbed into your bed? I do. I always think back at that night when I ask you about marriage.”

Mike shook his head at that, chuckling a bit. Even about ten years later, he absolutely remembered the first night he’d fooled around with Bryan. “I turned you onto your belly, and you pushed me off and asked me if I was a virgin.”

“It was pretty shitty for you to try to just mount me.” Bryan laughs for a moment, thumb sliding on his phone. Undoubtedly looking at the proposals. That grin becoming smaller at each one. “You proposed to me every night after the drunk one. Usually through AIM, but I got more than a couple in person. I always thought it was a joke.”

“It was meant to be.” Mike nods. “I thought they made you laugh.”

“They did. I wondered what you’d do if I said yes though.”

“And now you know.”

“Yeah.” Bryan nods, before putting his phone away. They both knew. They got married and ruined each other’s lives.

Brie had been the one to go through Bryan’s AIM to get all those messages. For their wedding present, she made them a proposal board, the best and worst of Mike’s cheesy inside jokes framed for their house. Mike had been embarrassed to receive it; seeing all of the times he proposed to Bryan, even as a joke, hurt him. Even more when he started to consider leaving him. “What did you do with our proposal board?”

“I put my foot through it when I found out you left,” Bryan admits, “I wasn’t in a good place. I mean, I knew things weren’t perfect between you and me, but coming home and finding your stuff gone? You didn’t even say a word.”

“You knew I wanted to move out to Cali and start my career.”

“I did. But you never talked to me about it. You just yelled about how complacent I was.” Bryan remains quiet for a moment, and Mike wants to yell that yes, that may be true, but Bryan would have never moved to Los Angeles with him. Bryan was happy being nobody and doing nothing. How could Mike have stayed with him? What was left to fight for? “I had no idea you were thinking about marriage.”

Mike doesn’t have a good explanation for that one. He had no doubt Bryan would love Maryse. He could imagine them side by side, picketing animal testing. “I had no idea you were moving.”

“You don’t call to talk to me, you call to get rid of me.” Bryan frowned. “You were so willing to throw our marriage away…”

Mike jumps up on his feet at that. “We weren’t happy!”

“Says who?”

Bryan gets on his feet as well. Slower, carefully stepping to the bars. Bryan always had a way of looking at him as if the height difference didn’t exist at all.

“We fought about everything.”

“You refused to talk to me.”

“What was there to say? I wanted more than you. You just wanted to hold me back. Isn’t that right? You hoped we’d stay here in the life you’re comfortable with, in this shitty town forever, and when I didn’t follow that plan to the letter, you decided to keep me trapped. You never wanted me happy, Bryan, and you’re resentful that I found someone who does.”

Bryan looks down, lips pressing together. He steps away, shaking his head. “You really hate me that much?”

“I didn’t….”

“I’ll sign your stupid papers.” Bryan looks up at him, only the iron of the cells between them. Close enough to touch him. Mike does want to touch him. Why does Bryan look so hurt? “And then you’ll never have to worry about finding me.”

“Bryan, wait.”

But Bryan doesn’t, turning to walk out the door. Mike grips the iron, pressing his face against the bars. Without Bryan, he’s here alone until Ambrose decides to finally have mercy on him. But worse than that, Bryan asking if he hates him hurts. It hurts more than Mike ever thought it could.

“Bryan!”

***

Dean lets Mike out at about 3 AM, but Mike has nowhere to go. He doesn’t want to go to his parents’ house, explain to them how he’d been unable to make sleeping arrangements because a local cop fake arrested him. He definitely doesn’t want to see Dolph, not after the trouble his fat mouth caused. Well... maybe it did lead to Bryan agreeing to sign the divorce papers, so maybe he should thank Dolph.

The bar isn’t too far a walk, and he makes it to the car. Once he’s sitting in the driver’s seat, he goes to his private email, looking up Brie’s name. It’s a nine-year-old email, but one that Mike could never bring himself to delete. There, in a document, every time he proposed to Bryan over AIM rather than in person. Bryan had said Mike proposed 200 times; it was actually 217, now that Mike did the math. From that time Mike pushed Bryan against the tree—April 17th—to the day Bryan responded yes, November 20th.

Mike had written the dumbest proposals. Some were kind of lusty, some were about Bryan being “too short” not to marry him, some were about Duke Orsino, of all things. Some were deliberately cheesy.

_Marry me so I can kiss you whenever I want_

That was the one he sent the day before Bryan said yes. He wishes Brie thought to paste Bryan’s answer too. He doesn’t remember what Bryan said in response and its killing him. He hadn’t known on November 19th that Bryan would actually be his the very next day. He didn’t know what Bryan being his would do to him.

***

Mike slides his key into the lock, before carefully opening the door. In his other hand, he has the papers, the key to his and Maryse’s freedom and happiness. He’d been in a funk, but sweet texts from Maryse—about food she’d bought to cook for his return, about how she missed him at a shoot, how much she loved him—steeled his resolve. The patter of feet tells him Josie knows he’s here, and he braces for the little mutt, but Bryan catches her before she rounds the corner.

“Come here Josie.” Bryan coos. He’s wearing a t-shirt this time, and that one Mike remembers. From the day they’d ditched class to get ice cream. From the day Bryan fixed the railing to the house, Mike refusing to get involved in home repairs. From the day Mike tossed some weird fragrant branches into the yard, telling Bryan they weren’t decorating with firewood. Mike follows Bryan, watching him open a door to their guest room.

“I won’t be long.” Bryan bends down, letting Josie run into the room. Once the door is closed, the sweetness leaves Bryan’s voice. “You know, if you didn’t use a key you shouldn’t still have, you wouldn’t have to worry about Josie.” Bryan holds out his hand, and it takes a moment for Mike to realize what he wants. Another moment to pull his keys out of his pocket, guiding the key to their home off the ring.

“So uh. I mean let’s keep it simple, huh? You keep everything in Cali, I keep everything here. What’s yours is yours and what’s mine is mine.”

Mike nods. “You sure, uh, I mean, I can definitely give you some money…”

“Waiving alimony. No settlement. What’s yours is yours.” Bryan takes the folder without another word, walking to their kitchen. Mike watches as Bryan digs around for a pen, unable to believe that the same guy who had told him he wanted to mess with him yesterday had given in so easily.

_You really hate me that much?_

“Bryan, just let me…”

“If you mention money one more time, I’m ripping this up.”

Mike nods, shutting his mouth. Bryan tests the pen on a napkin, before scanning the document. Pen dancing over each word he reads. Mike should stay quiet, should let Bryan just sign the document, but his mouth opens anyway.

 “So… where you moving to?”

 “A mountain cabin where I’ll become one with a herd of goats.”

Mike scowls at that, but forces himself to hold his tongue when he sees Bryan set the pen to paper. He wonders where Bryan’s going. He wonders how he made money, how much is “more than enough”… to someone like Renee, it could just be a thousand, and how long would that support Bryan?

“Why do you care anyway?”

Bryan walks back, paper in hand. The loopy script catching Mike’s eye, reading Bryan’s name over and over. Bryan Danielson. He signed it.

“I didn’t mean it, you know. You weren’t a mistake.”

“No, I was. I never wanted you happy, right?” Mike takes the papers quietly, letting Bryan’s sarcasm drip. “You never fought for us so why should I?”

“I hope wherever you’re going, you’re happy.”

Bryan scoffs, and then he holds his hand out. “Guess that’s the best I can expect from my ex, huh?”

Mike’s hand feels like lead. It takes all his power to shake Bryan’s hand. He’s not used to being unable to articulate for himself, yet in front of Bryan, with everything he came for, he feels helpless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I lied about 3 chapters. I won't call my shot here anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

Dolph asks way too often when the wedding is going to be.

When Mike returned to Los Angeles, there were things to plan, things that weren’t just the ring. The right venue, the right day. The right tie. Mike couldn’t just be Maryse’s boyfriend that night, he had to seem like the only man on Earth. There was also auditions, and Maryse’s shoots—things got him off track. But he had the ring, he had Bryan’s signature, and it was time to make the golden couple official.

His phone vibrates, and as he pulls it out, the name Cole pops up. He presses ignore—he can deal with him later. Talking to Cole would just make him think about how things went with his now ex-husband. No, he’d rather sit in this fancy restaurant and taste cakes. Maryse doesn’t usually indulge but they would split one that night.

The cheesecake with berries seems to be the winner; Mike prefers the chocolate cake, but it may be too decadent for Maryse. Mike scoops one last bit of the chocolate cake, wanting to enjoy the morsel while he has it. Once Mike is cast in another film, it’ll be steamed broccoli and chicken for months.

The laugh that rings out is so familiar, yet Mike thinks he is imagining it. After all, there are hundreds of miles between himself and his ex. But he can’t help but scan the room, looking at the tables, trying to find the source of the laughter.

He freezes, spoon falling on the table. There’s Bryan, dressed in a suit and tie. Looking way better than Mike’s seen him in a long time, even if the suit _is_ off the rack. He blinks, trying to make the image of Bryan sitting at a table covered in white disappear, but he’s still sitting there. Smiling across the table. The man sitting across from him is older, gray, and smiling as well.

What the fuck.

The chocolate cake is gone first; Mike grabs the cheesecake next, eating as he watches the two men talk. What was Bryan doing here? With another man, at that? He’s old, looks like he comes from money… nothing Bryan’s ever wanted. But then again, neither was Mike. Bryan has the worst taste for himself. Bryan looks horrifically out of place, a single weed in a vase of fake flowers.

Mike deserves an explanation.

The two men shake hands, and when Bryan walks towards the door, Mike goes to intercept the older man. His eyes widen even though his smile remains on his face, freezing in place as he’s cut off.

“I know you, don’t I? The Marine, right?”

“He’s all wrong for you,” Mike hisses.

“Excuse me?”

“You’d never make Bryan happy.” And without another word, Mike turns away, going for the door. He has a thing or two to say to his ex.

***

Mike’s not proud of following Bryan’s car.

Mike’s phone rings but he ignores it. If he turns his head away for one second, he’ll lose Bryan. He knows Bryan’s car, knows every inch of it, and despite being a pretty nondescript Nissan, it sticks out to Mike. It sticks out for the thirty minutes they spend driving on the highway.

Mike gives Bryan space when they enter a neighborhood. Bryan seems completely unaware of Mike anyway. He lets himself into the house, and it takes Mike a moment to catch up to what he’s seeing. He knew Bryan was moving, but… here? Mike’s backyard? What was he doing? Why…

Mike finds himself on the step, fist wrapping hard on the wood. Any thoughts he may be mistaken are quieted by the sound of paws scratching against the door. Without even looking, Mike knows its Josie, knows that years after fighting over their lives back home, Bryan ended up where Mike wanted him in the first place.

His fist goes faster, harder. He’s not leaving without seeing Bryan. He feels like he’s in some sort of bad dream, the past he attempted to leave behind coming to his own dessert tasting.

Finally, the door opens, and there’s Bryan. Wearing black slacks that are slightly too long and a white tee.  His eyes widen at the sight of him.

“Mike.”

“You.”

Bryan sighs, shaking his head. “Did Renee…?”

“I saw you. With the old fuck.”

“With the old…” Bryan’s eyes widen again, and he laughs. Jesus, he can’t stand being ridiculed. “ _Mike_. Did you follow me from the restaurant?”

“That’s not important.”

“No, that’s _insane_.”

“Why are you here?” Mike screams, “Why are you in this house? Why are you cozying up to a guy old enough to be your damned…”

Mike catches the mistake before it slips out, hands clapping over his mouth. He didn’t need to finish either; Bryan seems to know exactly where it was going as well. Bryan watches him for a moment, shocked, before nodding him in. Mike follows, shaking his leg when Josie feels too close.

“So you know.”

Mike nods. Their furniture looks so out of place. It was transplanting a personality into a different being. “I should’ve called you when it happened. I… I was mad… the envelopes kept coming back to my lawyer…”

Bryan sits on their couch, shrugging. His face is stoic, and Mike yearns for him to show some emotion. Any.  “What’s done is done, I guess.”

“No, it’s not… I was a shitty person. I’m sorry.” Mike looks around. His eyes catch the television he’d bought when they finally got their own house, the lamp Bryan’s family gave them, the painting of mountains that was once in their hall. “What are you doing here, Bryan?”

Bryan gestures to their recliner—Mike’s recliner, he bought it for himself years ago, but he couldn’t take a recliner with him to Los Angeles—and he sits. Eyes still on Bryan.

“Well, I was not _cozying_ up to anyone. Shane is my business partner.”

“Business?”

 “Yeah, uh… I’ve kind of spent the last few years starting up a little company. Nothing huge, just unique carvings, glassware. Shane’s my financial backer.”

Well, Mike hopes Shane is understanding. Maybe an autograph would help? He did recognize him from the Marine.

“You started a company?”

“Wow, don’t sound so shocked.”

And Mike doesn’t mean to, except the idea of Bryan starting a company seems out there. Not that Bryan isn’t intelligent, but Bryan doesn’t have an ambitious bone in his body. Not one that would start up a company with a financial backer.

“You moved here though.”

“Yeah, I did.” Bryan slides his hand through his hair. The silence is crushing, and Mike almost considers telling Bryan just to spit it out. “Well, this is awkward. I figured we might run into each other… not this soon, though…”

Mike opens his mouth, trying to understand. Bryan sits there, waiting for words that aren’t coming, before finally filling the silence on his own.

“You said I wouldn’t have moved to California for you.”

And it hits. Mike’s near shaking. He doesn’t need Bryan to explain any further; the blanks begin to fill in themselves. He’d always assumed Bryan wouldn’t move to California with him, it was what they fought about. Bryan didn’t want the fast paced lifestyle. And yet...

“Renee recognized me...”

“Not surprised; she’s passed your photo plenty of times.”

Mike’s on his feet. It feels as if he can’t breathe. Bryan doesn’t specify what that means but Mike imagines photos were still up in their house before Bryan started the move, maybe in Bryan’s workspace as well. Photos of happy young adults. Two men who had once been in love. “You moved here for me.”

“If I knew how much you hated me, I wouldn’t have moved all the way to California. I’d already bought the house though.” Bryan’s eyes follow Mike’s as he stands. Mike can’t stand to hold his glance, looking past him. “I thought… if I showed you how wrong you were… maybe we could finally fix things.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you antagonize me instead of telling me…?”

“What? That I was moving all the way to California to win back the husband that left me years ago? It sounds real stupid out loud, huh?”

“You should’ve told me.”

“Like you told me you were leaving me?”

“Jesus…” He looks at Bryan. He almost looks unshakeable, unbroken. Mike feels the exact opposite. He’s never felt this weakened before. He doesn’t understand why Bryan doesn’t feel this same cruel gut twist that Mike’s feeling. He hates him, he hates Bryan for never coming out and just saying that he loved Mike enough to leave his own life. He hates himself for never believing Bryan could do this.

“Fuck you, Bryan.”

And he’s pulling Bryan to his feet. A yelp of surprise fills his ears. Mike’s eyes have to be closed, because no matter how much he tries, he can’t remember how Bryan looks when their lips touch. Mike's hands are touching, grabbing everything he can. Bryan's head, back, ass. Pulling him closer.

It had been years since he'd done this, yet his hands remember. Gripping Bryan tight, a little rough. Bryan’s not pushing away either, the pressure on his head and back tell him Bryan’s just as needy. They don’t pull away as they ease onto their old couch; they don’t even pull away to take off clothes. Mike’s hands slide under Bryan’s shirt and along his sides, nails digging into his hips. Bryan unbuttons his shirt and kisses his chest, but Mike can’t help but catch those lips again.

The friction’s incredible, and Mike can’t figure out who started it, or if they both gave into a mutual need at the same time. Mike’s hips grind down against Bryan’s, Bryan pressing back against him. They’re groaning into each other’s mouths, touching each other. It’s almost desperate. Years of tension, of desire, of resentment, all coming out in a relic of their once happy life.

Mike breaks away for a breath, looking down at the man he married years ago. A lifetime ago, it feels like. Bryan’s lying there, belly exposed like this, and the glance is all Mike needs. Mike presses his mouth back against Bryan’s as he unbuttons his pants, yanks them down enough so he can pull out Bryan’s cock. He can’t bear to pull away; he wants to be close, wants to continue to taste that tongue. His hand wraps around Bryan’s cock and, the moment he moans, Mike can’t imagine stopping. The sound vibrating against his mouth, making Mike’s own cock twitch in his pants.

The moment he feels Bryan’s hands on his crotch, he’s the one groaning. He’s present in the sensations. Each passionate kiss, the way his knees sink into the couch, Bryan’s thighs warm under his. Bryan’s cock in his hand, Mike squeezing to make Bryan moan again. Bryan’s hands clumsily pull at his slacks until he can get the button undone, unzipping his pants. Mike doesn’t stop touching Bryan as Bryan pulls down his pants. No, instead he slides closer, moving his hand so it’s holding their cocks together.

Bryan feels incredible in his hand. The friction from Mike’s hand, from Bryan’s length sliding against his. Bryan’s rutting back against him. Their lips grow sloppier, Bryan’s mouth sometimes landing on his chin or on his lips, and Mike doesn’t mind one bit. Not the way Bryan sounds. Mike was never one to be quiet in bed, but right now? All he can do is moan. Pressure building in his belly. Desperate to feel this. Mike’s eyes shut, moaning out as he comes. He can hear Bryan moaning out, more high pitched, can feel him moving against him as he rides out his own orgasm.

Mike collapses on top of him with a grunt. He doesn’t want to move, just enjoying the details of it all. Bryan’s beating heart under him, the sounds of him sucking in air. Eventually, he forces his hands to either side of Bryan’s face, pushing up so he’s sitting. His forearm slides over his forehead, cleaning up the sweat there.

 “Holy shit.” Bryan’s breath is warm on Mike’s face. “I came on Tom Ford.”

“What…” Mike looks down and laughs. There is jizz on his pants. Even better, there’s some on Bryan’s belly. “No, these are Hugo…” Mike can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He can’t stop laughing. Like Bryan knows or cares about the designer. They’re so close. Closer than they’ve been in years, and knowing Bryan was willing to move for him destroys the emotional distance Mike had felt even before he left Bryan.

“Well, I’m sorry about Hugo.”

“It’s okay. Nothing dry cleaning can’t fix.” Mike leans down, brushing his lips against Bryan’s. Bryan presses in deeper, kisses harder.

They only break apart when they feel the vibrating against Mike’s leg. Bryan’s breathy laugh becomes a cough as Mike goes into his pocket, going to shut off the vibration. He pulls the phone out of his pocket, freezing as he sees its not Cole yet again, but Maryse. Her photo, blowing a kiss at the camera, is the only thing on the screen.

“What is it?” Bryan sits up. Mike doesn’t even think to move his phone, letting Bryan take a look at Maryse’s photo. His face falls, hand going over his mouth. “Oh shit. I wasn’t thinking, shit…”

“Bryan…”

“Shit, we’re fucked up, fuck, what did I do?” Bryan looks at him, almost imploring. “We’re divorced; you’re getting _married_ to her…”

“I don’t know!” Mike gets off his legs, pulling up his pants. Suddenly ashamed of his own nudity. “I don’t know; you can’t act like this doesn’t change…”

“What does it _change_?” Bryan snaps, “God, I can’t let you do to that girl what you did to me.”

“If you said _anything_ maybe we wouldn’t be here!”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re so fucking stubborn…”

“I’m stubborn?” Bryan stands, his slacks falling around his knees. He doesn’t bother picking them up. “Don’t act like you didn’t know I still love you. And you served me divorce papers. Again and again.” Bryan puts his hands on his mouth, shaking his head. When he looks back up, steeled, Mike knows Bryan’s faking resolve he doesn’t have.

“Maybe you and I had our chance.” Bryan points to the door. “But what about Maryse, Mike? That’s her name, right? Maryse? What about her?”

Hearing his girlfriend’s name hurts. Maryse doesn’t deserve this.

Neither does Bryan.

Mike turns, disheveled, and goes to the door. Slow steps, thinking about his beautiful girlfriend. About the man he married once. He doesn’t look back at Bryan’s house until he’s back in his car. His head drops on the wheel and he punches the dashboard. Once, twice, bringing down his fist three times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took wayyyyy longer than expected and I'm still not sure I'm 100% happy with it. I laid the ground for the resolution though, so this should get closer to funny next time. I'm really enjoying doing random cameos more than anything else.


	5. Chapter 5

Mike watches Maryse slide into a pair of glittering gold pumps. The couch in her closet is fairly comfortable, a white fuzzy cushion that Mike's found himself on plenty of times. The walls are covered in shoes of every color; some of which he'd bought her himself. She'd been getting ready for almost two hours and all Mike could do was watch. Maryse smoking out her eye, Maryse curling her platinum blonde hair just right. She was absolutely gorgeous.

His mind keeps replaying the sounds of Bryan mewling in his ear to remind him how much he doesn't deserve either of them.

"What happened to the other suit?" Maryse's heels click as she walks closer. Mike's eyes slide down her body–the white turtleneck bodysuit without the sleeves, the gold bandage skirt, her tanned and gorgeous legs–and back to her face. He didn't have a good explanation for _why_ the Hugo Boss suit wasn't on his body.

_“Holy shit. I came on Tom Ford.”_

Fucking Bryan.

"It's stupid. You'd laugh at me."

"Try me baby."

Mike forces a smile. "Pesto."

"See, that is why I don't eat carbs. They are messy and no good for you," she says, chuckling, "This one looks just as good on you, baby."

Mike stands up, his hands grasping Maryse's hips and guiding her in slowly. Enjoying the little giggle. This is so much different from the way he yanked Bryan in earlier, but he was doing the same thing. His lips brush against Maryse's gently.

"You look good on me."

_“But what about Maryse, Mike? That’s her name, right? Maryse? What about her?”_

Mike is an absolute fraud.

***

Mike reaches into the town car, taking Maryse's hand. A flash goes off in his face as he guides her out, her fingers lacing in his. They're yelling her name mostly, asking her questions about her outfit and her commitment to wildlife preservation. Mike could almost imagine them asking about Mike being on top of Bryan earlier, of Mike going home to divorce a man who loved him more than he ever deserved.

The only questions he gets are about the next _Marine_.

Maryse kisses him for the camera at the door, and Mike knows how to act this part well. Hands on her back, Maryse's leg kicked up. For her, the only thing false is the moment, something too perfect to be anything but staged. The kind of kiss people aspired to but didn’t actually have. For Mike, everything's fake.

Faker.

As if the powers that be are laughing at Mike, when they're inside, there in the front is one of Maryse's friends Kelly. Talking with the older man Mike had hissed at earlier. _Shane_.

Shit.

Maryse squeals, and Mike lets himself be dragged toward humiliation. Shane eventually sees him, lips pressing into an awkward smile. Maryse lets go of him to toss her arms around Kelly, leaving Mike and Shane on their own.'

"Shane." He holds out his hand and Mike shakes it.

"Look, I'm sorry for earlier..."

"Bryan explained." Shane nods his head toward the girls, who were lost in their own discussion. Mike wonders if they even heard a word he said. "Trust me, not a story you come out looking good in."

Mike nods, wondering what exactly Bryan told him. That he was a piece of shit that left his husband, refused to work things out, and started something new without finishing things with his husband? No, Bryan was probably more diplomatic. Made Mike sound better than he deserved.

He wished for a moment that he were back at Bryan's house–the house Bryan bought, apparently, for him. For a moment, he imagined lying in bed with him, Bryan making fun of his movies, Mike learning about Bryan's business.

"You know Shane McMahon?" Maryse's arm suddenly slides into his, leaning against him. "Such a small world."

Mike swallows, hoping that he won't have to explain how he knows Shane. He doesn’t know anything about Shane other than the fact he has money.

“We just met actually,” Shane says smoothly, taking the problem right out of Mike’s hands.

_“God, I can’t let you do to that girl what you did to me.”_

Shut up, Bryan.

Once he can pull away from the conversation, Mike goes straight to the bar. He needs a double shot of something quickly, something to take the edge off. He feels like he’s standing on one, teetering. Vodka, swallowing it way faster than maybe he should. This was what he wanted. This was the plan.  Maryse, and a future. He’d just gone to see Bryan to finish things between them for good, forever, until he saw Bryan again and got all confused.

His stubborn goat of an ex-husband.

Maryse doesn’t deserve this.

“Mr. Mizanin?”

Mike places down the empty glass before turning around. His graying lawyer, Mr. Cole, stands there, looking as if he was waiting to get bitten. Oh right. He’d been calling him. “Oh hey. Shot of goose? On me.”

“Oh, no thank you, I’ve been trying to call you…”

“If this is about the _matter_ …” Apparently he was foolish to trust Cole’s discretion in the matter. Get him and Bryan a quiet divorce, one no one just digging around could find. And before this Cole tried his best, getting Mike paper after paper when Bryan refused to sign them. Because Bryan was planning on winning him back the whole time. Stupid, stubborn man. “It’s a party. Save it for later.”

“Actually, it’s kind of urgent.”

Mike turns around to the bar. Hoping the action would make things clear for him. He can’t talk about the man who keeps haunting him, the very man he’d hooked up with in the house Bryan bought for him.

“Another double shot of...”

“You’re not divorced.”

Mike freezes for a moment. Trying to digest the three words, three words Cole had the audacity to say here. Three words that couldn’t be true. “Make that a triple.” He twists around, looking at the meek lawyer. The guy was a shark in the court room but nowhere else, it seemed. “What do you mean, Bry—he signed the papers.”

“Yes, he did. The problem is _you_ didn’t.”

Mike thinks back. He’d had that folder for days…. Holding onto it far longer than he should have, weeks after Bryan signed it, trying to force himself to send it to Cole. There was no way he didn’t take the time to sign those papers himself and make the divorce official. “That’s impossible.”

“If you come by my office tomorrow we can sort it all out.”

“There’s no way I… I didn’t sign the papers?” Mike keeps trying to remember, leaning over the papers and signing his name under Bryan’s. He had time. He had all that extra time. He’d almost let a month go by before sending Cole the envelope and doing what he had to do.

“This is fixable, Mr. Mizanin. I promise. Just go hang out with your beautiful fiancée and by tomorrow, you’ll be free to marry her.”

Mike looks over at Maryse and Kelly, posing for a picture. Shane’s long gone but the girls are still together. She’s stunning. High society, ambitious, beautiful, wonderful. He imagines Maryse on his arm when they go to the Academy Awards, and he imagines her crying for him when he finally wins one. He imagines their baby on the cover of People, just old enough for his cheeks to fill out, smiling for the camera. All Mike had to do was go see Cole in the morning, and that future would be all his.

This time, the words Mike remembers are his own. Said in the heat of the moment, words Mike didn’t even think through before screaming out.

 _“If you said_ _anything_ _maybe we wouldn’t be here!”_

***

Mike’s hand thudded on the door. He was wearing jeans this time, last night’s shirt wrinkled from being thrown on the ground. His hair was mussed. It had been a beautiful party; Mike standing by Maryse’s side all night. Justifying to himself that he was on the right path, that he’d chosen correctly and that the future with Maryse—her crying at his big win, their gorgeous baby—was worth fighting for.

The door opens, and the moment Mike sees Bryan dressed in jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt, he feels somewhat secure in the decision he came to last night.

“You can’t be here,” Bryan says, slowly, and Mike feels like a dumb child.

“Shut up.” His hand goes on the door before Bryan could think to close it. “You know what? Fuck you Bryan.”

“Fuck _me_?”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve buying a goddamn house for me when I’m sending you divorce papers. That’s what this was about, right? Confuse me?”

“Confuse you? You’re insane.”

“No, you’re fucking crazy. You hold onto this candle for me for fucking years, you get a lot hotter in the time we’ve been broken up, you buy me a house and you have the nerve to stop fighting for me?”

Bryan’s eyes are wide at that. “You need to leave. Now.”

Mike moves in closer, shoving the door more open. And of course, the stubborn goat he is, Bryan doesn’t back off. Eyes tracking his face, tilting his head a little higher as Mike gets closer.

“Fuck you.”

“You are making a spectacle of yourself for no reason. Go to your fiancée.”

That slow fucking voice again. “Fuck you, you don’t get to pretend this didn’t mean anything to you now that I’m admitting it meant something to me.”

“Mike, go home.”

“Fuck you.”

“I should’ve just signed your stupid papers when you mailed them to me.”

“But you didn’t. You played games with me and you confused me and you know what, now I’m here to tell you, I’m still in love with you. Happy?”

“No! No, I’m not happy. Are you a moron?” Bryan yells, “Why should I be happy that my ex-husband, who’s engaged to someone else, chooses _now_ to say he’s still in love with me?”

There’s no good response to that question, so Mike ignores it entirely. Focusing on the one part he can attack. “Husband.”

It catches Bryan off guard. He stands straighter, trying to make sense of the one word. “Excuse me?”

“We’re still married.”

Bryan shakes his head in response. Mike imagines this is how he must’ve looked to Cole last night. “I signed your stupid papers, don’t do this to me.”

“Yeah, I know, but turns out two people need to sign divorce papers. And you got into my head so much that I forgot to sign them.”

Bryan swallows, digesting the new information. Mike’s not stupid enough to expect Bryan to jump into his arms, but the words that do come out of his mouth sting. “Then go sign them.”

“No, fuck you. I’m just playing your game. You kept me married to you far longer than I wanted, now it’s my turn. You’re stuck with me.”

Bryan shakes his head again. “I’m going inside this house and I’m going to pretend this was just a drunken episode. It’ll be better for both of us that way.”

Mike shoves on the door at that. Bryan hadn’t attempted to close him out, but Mike was going to make him listen. “You know Bryan, I proposed to you 217 times the first time. Now that you’re my husband, just how annoying do you think I’ll be? I’ll come back every day if I have to.”

“You know how many times you proposed to me.” Mike wished the statement sounded flattered; no, it was almost like defeat. “Jesus Christ, Mike.”

“I’m coming tomorrow morning. And the day after that. And the day after that. So you can be the stubborn goat all you want, but I promise you baby, I’m far more stubborn than you’ll ever be.” Mike moves his hand from the door, but Bryan doesn’t move to close it. Instead he’s just staring. Mike hopes it means he has a chance.

“I’m sure the tabloids will notice you coming here every day.”

Mike shrugs as he turns around. He’s not sure if he’s okay with that, but at the same time, he’s definitely not okay with letting this die. Bryan hooked him again and Bryan had to deal with the consequences of that, just like Mike had to.

Mike’s barely down the steps when Bryan asks the right question.

“When did you break up with Maryse, Mike?”

The truth is? He didn’t. Not yet. He got home, pretended to be too drunk to sleep with her, and listened to how much of a shitty boyfriend he was as they went to sleep. Mike was fine with getting yelled at. He was a shitty boyfriend, but he was also a shitty husband. And to fix one, he had to destroy the other completely.

Mike never wanted to hurt Maryse, but he had, the moment he told her he was single and wanted to take her out.

“Mike. When?”

Mike turns around and looks at his husband. Knows he’s powerless to fight that. And no matter how many people he disappoints with this, he’s got to make things right with the man he married. “I’m going to do this right this time. And no matter how long it takes, or what I have to do, I’m coming back here every day until we fix _our_ marriage.”

“Fuck you.”

Mike knows he deserves that, much more than Bryan did. He tried to fight for what he wanted when he had no clue what he wanted and he fucked everything up. But Mike’s clear for the first time in years. Bryan’s still in love with him, and no matter how long it takes, Mike will keep asking for him back until Bryan decides he deserves him.

“Love ya too, honey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It kind of felt right not to give Mike a perfect happy ending like Reese got but I maintained the same twist. Every named character was a wrestler just for fun's sake, I had a lot of fun doing goofy, possibly shoe horned in cameos. Most of the major beats (the initial argument, the arrest, the fiancee, the signature) reflected something that happened in Sweet Home Alabama, except no Candice Bergen. Felt out of place when most of this focused on Mike and Bryan arguing (which were far and away my favorite parts). 
> 
> I played off Achika's prompt, which was a lot of fun. Sorry about the delay in this. I hope this is still in line with what you expected from this.

**Author's Note:**

> The biggest AU thing here is pretending the Marine series was enough to launch a career that the tabloids would follow. 
> 
> Consider this my Valentine's Day project. The initial set up is the same, but I can't promise this follows Sweet Home Alabama to the letter. I belieeeeeve this will be three chapters but I could be wrong. Also, I never specify the hometown but it's not really Alabama?
> 
> If you're the requester and this is at any point not what you signed up for, drop me a line.


End file.
